Anniversaries
by hanabimonai
Summary: A look at circumstances during Shion and Nezumi's first two anniversaries after Nezumi's return, and what's changed during the time in between. This will be the final part of the series "In the West Block," which started with the story "Waiting."
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** _Hi all! Been a long time since I posted a No. 6 fic. And this one has been percolating for a while, so I thought I might let it out to breathe a bit. Let me know what you think of this prologue, okay? Okay. Deal._

* * *

As end credits roll to the march of an epic original score, Shion is quite pleased. He adores romance and adventure movies. The grand tale he's just seen— that of a researcher who succeeds at achieving eternal youth, only to suffer the pain of endlessly doomed love affairs until she's found the right one person with whom to share her immortality— is no exception. It was Shion's fifth time watching, yet he still enjoyed it almost as much as the first. What pleases him most at the moment, however, is that Nezumi appears to have been asleep the entire time. Seated side-by-side like this, it's quite a feat for Shion to be able to watch a "date movie," as Nezumi would call it, and get away without being subjected to endless ridicule. Never mind that Nezumi happened to have played a major supporting role in this particular picture— filmed on location near No. 3 not long before his return to Shion's side— he'd still snicker at Shion for tearing up during the tragic, heartbreaking, and bittersweet moments. Or worse, he'd catch Shion unconsciously mouthing lines in unison with on-screen Nezumi.

On these occasions, Nezumi would unfailingly crack up and then proceed to _not_ leave well alone for the rest of the day, for fear Shion was not adequately aware of the precise sort of Ed Wood-reminiscent rapt expression he happened to be wearing at the time. Then would come the obligatory segue into a self-indulgent mini-rant about how acting work just isn't as satisfying when you're robbed of the connection with a _live_ audience— feeding off their energy, feeling the the rush, enjoying instantaneous praise, and not to mention, the gift baskets and flower bouquets… with _bonbons_. Shion, having heard it all before, would tune the rest out to an inner montage of Nezumi Theatre Moments.

_Nezumi's most delicate, faintly intoned murmurs carry effortlessly upward to Shion's ears as he nervously paces the second balcony at the first full dress rehearsal. At some point he'll stop moving. Sweaty palms will grip cool, soothing brass and he'll crane forward over the shiny handrail…_

_Nezumi's tiniest movements are just as refined; graceful yet so very natural, either with or without theatre binoculars. Shion confirms this from his comped loge seat on opening night, where he'll occasionally beam giddily at his mother, or Rikiga, or whichever friend or associate he's invited along that day…_

_Nezumi is resplendent under a plain ungelled spotlight as Shion watches from the wings on closing night. He tingles with excitement, eagerly anticipating his and Nezumi's own _private_ post-cast party celebration to come, and the very physical ways in which he'll congratulate his partner on a job well done._

_Just before curtain call, an amused Nezumi joins him offstage, shaking his head in faux-exasperation; _'What are you imagining now, Shion?'_ and Shion's reply comes in a lustful near-whisper: _'You're right, Nezumi. It's so much more exciting to see you on stage than on screen.'_ Then, with a single sultry look, Nezumi will recast Shion for a certain exclusive recurring role he's always, always thrilled to play…_

The young woman in the aisle seat and the two people occupying the three seats across the aisle appear to be asleep as well. There's a good chance there were _no witnesses at all._ Shion closes his eyes and breathes a tiny sigh of relief at this fortuitous situation. A small smile graces his lips, as though he's gotten away with something naughty. _The perfect crime,_ he muses.

Abruptly, the orchestral soundtrack in Shion's ears is cut off. He opens his eyes again to find the credits have been replaced with a dull white-on-blue screen displaying flight progress and a weather report. The head cabin attendant is pleased to announce over the PA system (and all in-flight entertainment channels) that the flight is proceeding exceedingly well, so they will be landing at No. 2 International Airport ahead of schedule, and it looks like the weather will be quite _balmy_.

_Date and time at destination:  
__Friday September 1, 2021; 10:16:41 (2ST)  
__Current ETA: 37 minutes (early)  
__Current Conditions:  
__29º C. Sunny and clear, Wind S, 2 km/h  
__Humidity 48%, Dew Point 17º C_

After adjusting his watch, Shion removes the headset and begins raising the shade over the window just a little at a time, ensuring no one nearby is disturbed by intruding sunlight. Through the window, he can see long-scorched and deadened terrain beginning to show signs of life in the form of small and scarce, yet nevertheless blossoming clusters of green, near a large natural lake. He supposes bodies of freshwater are perhaps being gradually purified by evolved saprophytes and new epiphytes. Earlier No. 6, at the height of its artifice, would not have allowed such organisms to exist at all.

Shion smiles, marveling at nature's gift of undying hope.

He is excited to be able to see No. 2 for the first time. A precious first experience for him— travelling for pleasure rather than purely for work. Nezumi suggested their destination and voiced vague and noncommittal suggestions of 'stuff' he'd like to see Shion 'try,' and that might be enjoyable to do as a pair. Shion made the specific travel arrangements, putting in such intense and exhaustive (but enthusiastic) research, Nezumi laughingly called it overkill; '_At this rate, you'll know the place so well I'll be able to learn more about it from you than I did by going there.'_

Nezumi's one travel stipulation was that they _never_ fly first or business class. Much to his agent's chagrin, the one time he was convinced to fly a certain airline's "diamond elite" class, _Eve_ barely lasted an hour before demanding a _downgrade._ An act completely unheard of— especially on an eleven hour flight— it was a huge embarrassment for that major carrier. Shion shared in the fallout, overhearing Nezumi's bald assurances over the phone to worried producers and his scandalized agent that he was simply unimpressed with the persons who deemed themselves _elite_ enough to be seated there, and that the service was 'quite alright' but that he'd have 'none of it.' No one knew better than Shion why Nezumi hated the nature of such variant "classes" — prestige and pampering; winking, simpering cabin attendants; all reserved only for the few seated at the _front_. The parade of furtive, covetous glances from economy class _petit bourgeois_ (almost _proletarian_ in comparison) as they shuffle miserably by to reach their cramped seats at the _back_. All the perks and added amenities; all the _privilege_ and _passive acceptance_ of hierarchy hearkened back to unpleasant memories, which threatened to awaken dormant destructive impulses—

"Penny for your thoughts?"

"Ah!" Shion turns away from the window to face the source of the murmur at his side. Sleepy grey eyes and a tired smile greet him, and Nezumi remains as captivating as ever. Shion smiles back fondly and waits politely for the other to finish yawning. "Well—"

"Oh, but with that genius brain of yours, mere pennies won't cut it, will they?" Nezumi half-yawns his words, stretching his arms.

He would hate it if Shion told him how _cute_ he looked and sounded, just then. _On the other hand he'd probably also do it more often, contradictory guy that he is._

Instead, Shion catches an outstretched arm, entwines their fingers, and brings their joined hands to Nezumi's ear, where begins to trail his own knuckles down the actor's jawline. "I'm sure whatever you were dreaming is far more interesting."

"Mmm… this is familiar…" Nezumi mumbles, completing the arc their hands began and kissing the fingers Shion has interlaced with his own.

A little girl's voice perks up from between the headrests behind the young men's heads; "Mommy, they're kissing hands, just like in that movie! Did you like the movie, Mister?"

It suddenly occurs to Shion that he needs to use the restroom. _Urgently._


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N:** Apologies for the super-extreme lateness of this update.__ I've been going through some... interesting... times. __Also, this chapter kept not being what I wanted it to be!_ T_T

_Still not completely sure how I feel about it, but I'm a lot happier with it now, anyway._

_To anyone following Heaven & Hell, that update will be next to come._ ^_^;

* * *

In his mind's eye, Nezumi saw trembling lips hovering mere centimetres away on the other side of the door; red-irised eyes likely watery and dim. But _he_ was out in the hall, and _Shion_ had locked himself in the bathroom.

"What the fuck, Shion? I _told_ you—" _What— Why am I angry? _Nezumi reproved himself, moderating his tone from its initial snarl to an uncharacteristically small, increasingly uncertain murmur; "—It's fine now. I'm— _we're_ fine now. Aren't we?"

No answer but the soft squawking of morning radio coming from the (empty) kitchen.

"_Shion?"_

"—'m sorry. Just— I'll be out in a minute, _'kay?"_ He didn't need to utter another syllable. Sensitive type that he was, Shion's tortured voice already gave everything away. His irregular pitch signaled how overcome he was; his unsteady pace his embarrassment. The way he barely choked out _'okay'_ at the end—

Nezumi wanted to _hit_ something— lash out, pound fists into the eggshell bathroom door and pastel blue hallway; to kick around the modest furnishings that came with Shion's compact apartment. But the flat hadn't done anything wrong; _Nezumi_ had. He had always been talented at upsetting others. _Usually _it was intentional— even _calculated_. But even when it wasn't, he'd never had reason to concern himself about ruffling some feathers in the past. Things were now very different. How very frustrated he was with his inadequacy at putting the former No. 6 resident at ease.

Even after half a year.

"Yeah," a more subdued Nezumi replied without a trace of ire, resentment, or impatience while taking a seat on the nearby living room sofa. He rubbed fingers across his scalp, ruffling his unbound hair in frustration. "Take your time," he unexpectedly _crackled_. The former sworn enemy of No. 6 cleared his throat and leaned forward, resting his forehead against accusing fingertips.

Nezumi grew angrier at himself for permitting his voice to shrink and retreat— as if his words were the utterance some wounded heard the notes of disappointment and concern in his voice, Shion was likely now heaping self-reproach on top of his irrational fear. It felt unnatural to Nezumi, this powerful desire to offer reassurance. For one as gifted as he at manipulating _others'_ emotions, he realized, he was startlingly incompetent at understanding his own. Even more so _expressing_ them.

Paradoxically, as much as he wished to provide comfort, he still wanted to run away.

_I'm so sorry, Shion._

_I'm still afraid._

_We're so different, you and I— but I think you're scared too._

_It's as true now as two and a half years ago: I can spend the rest of my life with you, and still never really _understand_ you. Yeah. But __I could never forget about you._

_Even when I tried._

He slouched and let his head fall back against the sofa.

_What do I do now?_

_..._

When he was cast for his first supporting role in a major motion picture, Nezumi began to grow restless. The world was going to be seeing him on the silver screen, but when shooting wrapped up, he remained unfulfilled. His performance was fine— _excellent_ even— and his colleagues (both before and behind the camera) played their roles competently as well.

So why was he so dissatisfied?

Cinema audiences wouldn't applaud (or heckle) pre-recorded presentations. Barriers of time and distance stood in the way as well. _Kind of like a peep show arranged by old man Rikiga._ He laughed to himself about it back then, but those laughs rang hollow…

Prior to this, moviegoing had become Nezumi's _addiction_. For a long time, he had secretly longed to experience the _'movies' _he'd occasionally heard or read about while living in the West Block. Soon after he left the region of No. 6, he was finally able to fulfil that wish. From there, he graduated quickly from audience to extra, and then even faster from extra— directly to his most recent part.

At first, however, he could hardly put into words how he felt, once pictures began to play. Not that he _needed_ words, of course. The mice already understood.

_There wasn't anyone else._

To the jaded people in the different numbered city-states, their galleries, theatres, stadiums— all such entertainment venues simply _always _had and _always _would exist. Still, movies _affected_ people. Children skipped out of matinées and into fresh horizons of fantasy. Young couples mimicked the pictures' romantic rituals. Those old enough to remember the world before the war often left with tears in their eyes.

Now Nezumi, too, could look directly into history and listen to the authentic sounds of an entirely different era. Plentiful farmlands, sprawling cities in their prime, and pure untouched nature— rainforest, savannah, Arctic tundra… extinct animal species…

_Extinct _peoples_, too._

He sighed.

Yet when he was cast for his first supporting role in a major motion picture, Nezumi began to grow restless.

Shooting wrapped up for feature and featurette; cast, crew, directors, and producers all moved on and Nezumi was no different, heeding his agent's advice on promotional matters with characteristic sarcasm and lip service. The young actor felt no particular attachment to any of these people, the studio, or their associated locales.

And still, he remained disturbingly unfulfilled. _Why?_

The answer came to him the first time after the shoot was completed that he could escape from bright daylight into the welcoming darkness of the cinema.

With a dispirited _huff,_ he'd slumped into his usual spot at the back of the Bijou. Since when were his movements so listless and inelegant? Well, no matter. To all others in the sparsely-populated auditorium, Nezumi existed in an entirely separate universe. _This may be one room,_ he mused, _but we are not all in the same _place. Families, couples, groups of friends; all were cloistered within their own realms.

_Others'_ enjoyment, he supposed, lay not only in immersing themselves in filmed entertainment on the silver screen. It was the _common experience_. Within a year, Nezumi's beautiful (if he did say so himself) features would be projected onto theatre screens just like this one across the globe, and yet until that very moment, he'd never truly understood this simple fact.

He could always watch movies alone. And _enjoy_ them. That would never change. However, there had always been an integral portion of the experience he'd be missing: the simple pleasure of _sharing_ with another— someone whose company he could appreciate. Nods of agreement and heated debate; mind reading and picking of brains; awe and ridicule.

_Distance and intimacy. Push and pull. Magnetic repulsion and attraction—_

An old memory materialized within this new awareness. That underground room and its mismatched sets of twins: two cups to wash, two plates, two piles of books to read, two towels, pairs of shoes— all manner of mundane objects came to mind. He remembered that _home_ now abandoned and empty.

Alone in the back of the theatre that day, a single uninvited tear dropped from his eye.

Even before the last-minute hiring for his break out film role was clinched, and as the two year mark was drawing ever closer, Nezumi was thinking about returning to see _Shion_. He thought about his hypocrisy back then, teasing the boy about his response to Safu's frank confession. Why wait two years when he had a sure thing directly before him then and there, right? Yet hadn't _he_ done the exact same thing? Unlike Shion, _Nezumi_ had no excuse, either.

He and Shion weren't ever just _friends_.

Fearful as he was of having someone to protect— several times more afraid of _Shion_ doing the same— and as fascinating and rewarding his sojourns in the numbered cities, ragged trading posts, and spare rural villages blooming here and there; there would always be something missing.

...

The mice appeared impatient with Nezumi's inaction. The one called Hamlet scrabbled down haphazard piles and individual books jutting from the bookcase in front of him in order to perch by Cravat's side on the sofa's arm. Though Cravat was usually the more hyperactive of the two, he only tilted his head expectantly as Hamlet testily squeaked disapproval. He then chirped sagely in agreement. And they were right. Tsukiyo _shouldn't_ be the one consoling Shion right now.

So he found himself standing at the bathroom door again. Knocking. "Hey… do you think could I come in?"

He was about to speak again into the answering silence, but Shion managed to cut it short: "I'll be out in a sec, alright?"

"_Please, Shion."_

More silence.

After one of those odd moments that seem to stretch uncomfortably into eternity, he heard a _click_. Inside, Shion stood with his back turned, vigorously rubbing at his eyes as if seeking a better view of the pristine glass shower doors. Nezumi took a hesitant step forward.

"I'm not crying," Shion sulked defensively.

"Uh huh," Nezumi smiled and before he realized it, he was hugging Shion from behind, and resting his head on his left shoulder. "Heard that one before."

Nezumi couldn't truthfully deny the brief thrill he felt as Shion shivered gently in response to the words spoken against his skin. Good thing no one _asked._

"I won't lie." He continued, turning his head to the side to address the short downy hairs at the nape of Shion's neck. "It _is_ hard for me to say I live here. Don't think I'll _ever_ be able call this place 'home,' but you _know_ why that is, right?"

Shion nodded slowly. Nezumi wondered just how the airhead could project such misery without so much as a _look_.

_You'd've been an incredible actor if you could be so _subtly_ expressive_ _on command._

"I'm not someone to measure your success by. But I_ meant_ it when I said I was impressed. Without you, they'd never have pulled it off, Shion— the _balance_ you've brought here. Your _New City_ is rapidly becoming the envy of the other Numbers."

Shion remained silent and motionless except for his slow, steady breaths. If it weren't for the fact he was standing and supporting the weight on his shoulder, Nezumi might have suspected he was asleep. He squeezed Shion a little tighter before going on.

"Anyway, I'm saying you should be proud of this place, and I mean it. Even if there's nothing this city can do to keep me here—" Nezumi took a breath mid-sentence. He couldn't believe what he was about to say, but after all it wasn't only what the airhead wanted to hear. It was the honest_ truth._ "—except have _you_ in it."

Shion gasped and stiffened, then carefully loosened Nezumi's arms, shifting smoothly around to face him while still within them. Nezumi recalled how frighteningly graceful he could be whenever gripped with a strong sense of purpose.

Glossy eyes scanned his, an accompanying deep flush still visible in Shion' cheeks and nose.

"Hey. Shion." Nezumi took Shion's cheeks in his hands, sliding fingers back behind his ears as he whispered: "I'm sorry."

He leaned in and paused, watching Shion's eyes closely. When they shut in acceptance, he pressed forward. The tentative apology kiss was fervently returned.

"Forgive me?" He pulled back, stroking Shion's cheek.

"It's okay. I knew it already— that you can't get over your bad memories of No. 6 so easily. Safu feels the same way, you know. She hasn't ever said so, but I can tell. Especially with how she moved so quickly to the West District." He wore a bittersweet smile.

"Oh? I thought it was because of Inukashi's invitation, and how well those two get along."

"Well… there's _that_ too." Shion laughed and Nezumi was glad to hear it. "But the West Block is part of the _new_ No. 6 now, remember. I hope that in time, things will change for both of you. Then, maybe this city can be home for all of us, instead of just me."

"I can't say how I'll feel about this _place_ in the future, but I'm not going to leave you behind again. If there's anywhere I won't come back from, you're going with me."

"I know. I always believed in you, Nezumi," he beamed, though tears remained in his eyes.

Nezumi rolled his eyes and smiled with endearment at Shion's unfortunate turn of phrase. _"Still_ saying embarrassing stuff like that…"

Shion grinned sheepishly and blushed anew. "Yeah, well…"

"Still an _airhead_, too." He rested his forehead on Shion's, then let their noses glance past each other before bringing their lips together again for longer this time.

"Happy 19th Birthday, airhead. Let's get some breakfast. We've got a long day ahead."

* * *

_Special thanks to my one-and-only superstar reviewer, **Bleached-Whale**, for motivating me to continue this story (instead of just putting it on the backburner and working on other projects), as well as those few of you who added this fic to your favourites. Two more chapters to go. Hope you're still out there! ^_^;_

_Thanks to everyone for reading. Please review!_


	3. Chapter 3

_**UPDATE** March 9 2013:**  
I've put a poll up on my profile page. I'm hoping you'll please tell me how YOU decide on what stories to read. Results will be viewable (except for any PMs I receive) once I close it. I will also make a special announcement about future plans on my profile at that time.**_

* * *

Shion felt truly blessed today.

After a lovely afternoon birthday party for the hyper little girl Sion at Inukashi's place in the New West Block, he and Nezumi had rushed back to his apartment in No. 6, proper, to prepare for dinner out.

Finally, that dinner party began.

"Happy birthday, Shion," Karan clinked wine glasses with her adult son, a nostalgic smile on her face; in her eyes. She would have just the one glass before retiring early. But first she kissed him dotingly on the forehead and flashed a warm smile at Nezumi, too. "I'm so proud of you."

"_Moo~om,"_ Shion whined for show. Truthfully speaking, he wasn't all that embarrassed of her expressions of affection. Nor did he even find shame in acting like a twelve-year-old again at the age of nineteen. (In fact, the teasing would be much worse if he _didn't_ say anything.) At least no one ever mocked him for occasionally kissing little Sion in much the same way his mother embraced him.

There was a hint of mischief in Karan's smile now, as she ruffled her boy's hair with her free hand. (He didn't complain this time, but only smiled sheepishly back at her.)

"Shion, my boy—" a melodramatic voice croaked out.

"He's not YOUR boy, old man," Inukashi interjected cuttingly. "Lucky for him."

Disdainful nose in the air, Rikiga ignored her in favour of patting the birthday 'boy' roughly and awkwardly on the head. The hand on his head was heavy, but not enough to do any harm. Shion shrugged at the young owners of the surreptitious smirks around him, then turned a friendly grin back on the well-meaning, but tipsy, middle-ager.

The young man noted in the back of his mind that Rikiga-san's breath already smelled strongly of something _other_ than the wine just opened for this party. He noticed Inukashi rolling her eyes as he clinked glasses with Shion, too.

In what was supposed to be a lowered voice directed to Safu's more than sufficiently sharp ear, Inukashi stage whispered: "We should _all_ be glad none of us were his kids."

"Thought my 'old man' ears wouldn't hear that, did you?" Rikiga cut in as Safu smiled back at Inukashi in a way that somehow expressed both the faux-weariness of a _'What will I do with you?'_ and a thinly-veiled amusement.

_Who _couldn't_ hear that?_ Shion wondered idly.

"The hearing aid's working nicely I see," Inukashi sniffed and shrugged, turning away from him and approaching Shion now with her glass of grape juice.

"Hmph. At least my hearing's better than your manners." Rikiga muttered somewhat under his breath. "Some young 'lady' _you_ turned out to be."

Inukashi was clearly pretending not to hear, but a suspiciously triumphant grin appeared on her face, right then. "Happy birthday, ya airhead."

Shion hadn't noticed a petite, neatly-wrapped parcel in her hands— even though he'd specified he'd prefer not to receive anything, this year.

_Safu!_ _It was you who put her up to this, wasn't it?_

One nervous hand went up to the back of Inukashi's head to scratch there. "I know you didn't, um… want gifts this year but uh… here, hope you'll accept this."

Inukashi thrust the little package at Shion and nodded stiffly before hurriedly backing off. Simple niceties like public gift giving were still a somewhat humbling experience for the girl.

Suddenly, warm arms flopped over his shoulders and hugged him from behind. Pale and delicate hands continued to dangle in front of him. Next, Safu's cheery voice chimed in: "Happy birthday, Shion. We _each_ got you something!"

One of the hands over Shion's front held a tiny wrapped present.

"Safu! Inukashi! Thanks, but you didn't have to—"

"Oh but they _did_. Might as well enjoy it." Nezumi commented wryly, sipping at his wine.

Shion couldn't be any more thankful that all of his most important people— treasured loved ones and good friends alike— were alive and well and _with him_ on this day.

oOo

Later on, Shion was feeling great. _Really_ great. _Lightly intoxicated_, he would say, though at the same time he speculated he _might_ be a bit _beyond_ that point already. Once he had finished saying his goodbyes to Rikiga, and Inukashi was in the bathroom, he found himself shamelessly studying Nezumi. The finely featured young man was a short distance away, chatting about something with his good friend Safu.

Actually, it sounded like they were exchanging stories about Shion _himself._

Currently, since the rational and self-conscious portions of the birthday boy's brain were on holiday, however, he let the topic of discussion go, in favour of observing the pair before him.

Smiling and laughing as she was with her conversation partner, the cheerful Safu was as pleasant and pretty as ever. But Nezumi looked _incredible_. He always looked good of course. No one was ever as attractive to Shion as Nezumi. Not even close to _his _desirability. Right then, he couldn't take his eyes off the fine-figured man close by. Proud posture and fluid movements. Muscular arms and flat abs. Flowing hair and suggestive collarbone— peeking through the top of his form-flattering button-up shirt. A visage more perfect than that of the most flawlessly carved doll, and those perfectly entrancing silver-grey eyes, focused on him, right at this instant.

"Hey airhead. Stop spacing out and get over here." Nezumi rolled his eyes.

Shion stepped closer, as instructed. He distantly noted Safu smiling sweetly with a flush on her face.

"My, my. I might've let your highness alone with Rikiga rather a bit too long."

oOo

Despite the fresh night air outside, Shion felt so _warm_. At some point, an arm had wrapped around his hip, holding him firm. He leaned into its owner for support as they walked down the sidewalk to his apartment late at night. His red pea coat was left open, occasionally flapping in the wind.

"Shion." A murmur. A perfect, beautiful articulation of his name. _How—?_

"Oy—" A light squeeze at his arm; soft speech: "You alright?"

"Yahwhawouldn'ahbe?" Shion rested his head upon Nezumi's shoulder even as they walked along the road.

_Heh._

That laugh— that short, mock-exasperated puff of air—

"You're really adorable when you get like that—"

Shion was really feeling pretty good… but he knew the renewed flush in his face just now wasn't just from the liquor. Thankfully, the cool, damp September breeze was so _soothing_…

"Who're ah callin' …_ador'ble?"_ he objected, head raised in a split second's indignance, before he snuggled up close again. "Now— 'm… feelin' rilly good… right now."

"Uh huh. But give it an hour or two and you're not gonna be feeling so hot, sport."

"Mmm," Shion intoned, dismissive.

Then, after a few moments, another thought occurred to him.

"Nezumi."

"Yes, your highness?" Shion could hear the smile in his voice. Contagious.

"Caz I'm— See, jess 'cause'm restin' on yer shoulder. Doesn' mean y're taller, y'know."

"That so?" Nezumi cooed with obvious amusement.

"Yeah. 'Tis."

oOo

It felt like a video was playing, set to a constant loop. No matter where he looked. Everything in his immediate vicinity swung violently from left to right, only to jump back into position and spring through his vision again, like an overly-abused elastic band.

"Aughhh…" he groaned, speaking into the toilet before him. It seemed his nausea was finally abating but he still felt awful. "Why won'it all stop spinning?"

"Here, water."

"Nezumi."

"Mm?"

"Ah…'m never drinkin' again."

"Uh-huh." _That's what they all say._

"Sor— 'm sorry y'ad to see me like this. "S'embarrassing…"

"Don't worry 'bout it." Nezumi was already sliding flat palms up Shion's back, rubbing circles over his shoulder blades and in the small of his back, through his dress shirt. "Service is free for the young master, today."

Rinse.

Spit.

Drink.

Shion gulped pure, fresh water eagerly and sighed in relief when he realized he no longer felt any objections from his insides. "I'm gonna go sit down."

"Okay." Nezumi led the way out of the room.

"Thanks," Shion mumbled to Nezumi's retreating back. "For being here."

oOo

Shion stepped out of the bathroom, towelling off his face. He found Nezumi waiting for him in the hall. Three little sets of eyes scrutinized him from Nezumi's pockets and shoulder as well.

"You really _sure _you're okay now?"

"Yes."

"_Really?"_

"Yes, really."

"Brushed?"

Shion cracked a large, tight smile and held it for a second to showcase his sparkling teeth— and vomit-free breath.

"Gargled, even."

"Well then," Nezumi spread his arms in invitation. "By all means, your majesty may proceed."

Shion couldn't help but look him up and down, an appreciative smile taking form on his face. Nezumi remained still until Shion slipped arms around his waist and kissed him gently; fleetingly. His arms remained in place as he dropped his head onto the young man's shoulder. "Thank you, Nezumi."

"I'd say it was a memorable birthday, but I suspect _someone_ won't remember all of it."

"Ha. Ha. _Ha,"_ Shion responded caustically. "But really, I'd like to thank you. For today."

While still supporting Shion's, Nezumi let his head drop to Shion's opposite shoulder, sighing in contentment. "Well. Thank _you_. And," he added quietly, "not just for _today._"

"Yeah." Shion whispered and grinned to himself while still nestling his face into the warmth at the crook of his neck. Just how many times had they supported each other, and even saved each other's _lives_ since that first night they met? Things may not be as dangerous now as they were then, but Nezumi was always there for him when it counted. Shion gave him a light squeeze. "Me too."

"Maybe I don't know about this _city_, Shion, but I do know about _you_." Nezumi punctuated his words with a light push away and a caress down his partner's side. Letting eyes meet from arm's length, Nezumi brought his hand back to rest behind Shion's shoulders along with the other.

Shion was slightly self-conscious under that eyeing, but also quite happy— mostly at the openly fond expression on Nezumi's face. The subtle, sentimental smile. Gradually, since the day he told Shion he was going to stay— perhaps even from the very day he returned— the iciness of those beautiful silver-grey eyes was melting away. Vitality had always lived within those eyes, but the newfound _passion_ in that stare warmed Shion's body all over. His own eyes were damp now, though no tears fell.

"Nezumi," Shion whispered, "I'm so glad we met."

"Me… too. But don't _cry_, stupid." Nezumi teased, smirking.

"I'm _not!" _Shion half-whined, defeated. "Who's _crying?"_

_Don't you ever dare leave again._

…

Never_ again. Idiot!_

oOo

On an essentially empty stomach, Shion found his mother's cherry pie to be more delicious than ever. Shion's cup of cocoa, too, was especially soothing tonight. He and Nezumi had been sitting side-by-side on the edge of their bed, reminiscing and sipping from their mugs until both had reached the very last dregs.

Nezumi's sarcasm was weakening, now, in favour of a certain warmth Shion felt was rare, coming from the young man. Feeling the heat between them, he turned, and one knee pressed against the bed, touched his forehead to Nezumi's, as if to compare temperatures. His eyes were closed and their noses rubbed as he spoke: "You're hot."

"Yeah, I know," the grey-eyed one smirked. "I'm a great catch, or so they say."

As Shion rolled his own eyes, Nezumi took the opportunity to roll over and push his friend straight down on the bed. Shion's arms were still free, however, so he slid a hand up inside Nezumi's shirt and whispered, mischievous, into his neck: _"Really..._ hot."

"Yeah?" Nezumi sat up in place, still straddling the birthday boy. He leaned forward slightly, surveying the sight before him, before closing the distance between their lips. "You too."

'_Living people are warm.'_

Shion's arms pulled the rest of Nezumi down flush against himself, and both smiled into another prolonged kiss. Nezumi sighed, sounding content; Shion seemed to be melting with happiness.

It had been a bit of a rough first anniversary for the two of them but right now, everything was _right_ in the world.

* * *

**A/N:**_ So, just one more chapter to go... Woohoo! \(^_^)/ Just wanted to say a special thanks to **Red Mynx** for the encouraging review. All of you who review make these stories worth writing! :)_

_After this, though I don't have any specific No.6 ideas in mind, I've got one for a No.6/DGM crossover/AU. It'll be my first crossover and my first AU, so it's been interesting to think about... (Actually I already wrote a few chapters but put it on hold when I started posting chapters for both _Anniversaries_ and _Heaven & Hell_ at the same time.) I hope those of you familiar with both fandoms will be interested in checking it out, when the time comes._

_'k that's all for now. Peace out! :P_


	4. Chapter 4

_**UPDATE** March 9 2013:**  
I've put a poll up on my profile page. I'm hoping you'll please tell me how YOU decide on what stories to read. Results will be viewable (except for any PMs I receive) once I close it. I will also make a special announcement about future plans on my profile at that time.**_

* * *

**A/N:** _Finally here it is... the Last Chapter! Last chapter of this story, Last chapter of the _**In The West Block**_ series. =:O_

_I appreciate you all for sticking around to read my works up to this point. Hope you enjoy it._

* * *

There's a silly young man flopping about in the water directly in front of him, and Nezumi only knows one way to react…

That young man manages to gasp out defensively: "Hey, I said not… to laugh!"

"Bit of a tall order, that…"

"Don't be mean." A deceptively innocent pout.

"I know you're just learning, but I just— I never imagined you could be just so… _terrible_ at this," Nezumi muses, taking hold of his companion at the waist while continuing to tread water.

"_Nezumi…"_ Shion begins with his oh-so-familiar tone of _warning_.

So he releases him and with an adorably helpless yelp, the white haired and white t-shirted young prince slips right below the water; immediately bouncing back up with arms flailing. Nezumi allows Shion to stabilize himself again, kicking frantically to stay at the surface of the water, and holds back a snicker at the stream of water his counterpart spits out to the side.

"You let go!" he squawks incredulously— accusingly.

"Well yeah, you didn't sound too pleased with me just then…" _and I love just messing with you._

"Idiot," Shion mumbles halfheartedly and sighs, his breathing normalizing. "I still could've used your support."

"You can't stay above water without me?"

"I didn't say _that—"_ he chides.

"Oh… ?"

"I can _float,"_ he amends, almost haughtily. "On my _own._"

"Oh." Nezumi is so surprised, he forgets to laugh.

Well, almost. Out come some tremendous _giggles_. But in delight, not derision.

Shion's expression sours, but that too is part of what makes him so… _beguiling?_ Nezumi's not sure if that's quite the right word. But he's not interested in going there right now. Instead, he strokes lightly along the scar line on Shion's face. "His Majesty is displeased with this lowly vassal's mirth?"

Even in the waning sunlight, he can see his partner rolling his eyes; a fiery-orange sky reflected in striking red, angry irises. Strange sensations roll across his chest and abdomen. _Butterflies. _He knows what it is now, but he's not sure he'll ever be used to it. After all, Shion's the only one who's ever caused that kind of scrambling effect on his insides.

Shion lies flat on his back, drifting silently atop the water— and away from Nezumi— as if to prove a point. Night is falling, and dark shadows fill his translucent hair, gradually replacing the colours of seawater and sky that currently reside there.

He's actually not doing so bad at coasting parallel to the shoreline. They haven't gone out _too _too far into the water in the first place, after all. However the tides are pushing him gently back toward the beach. Shion probably hasn't noticed that yet.

"Hey, you're about to end up like a beached whale, airhead."

Shion scoffs, maintaining his posture. "Are you implying I look like a _whale?"_

"I'm _implying_ that at this rate, _someone _is about to wind up sprawled out on the strand with sand up his shorts, idiot."

Finally accepting his situation, Shion manages to right himself, bringing his feet to the ground in time to avoid doing his best impression of driftwood washing ashore. He's stable but wobbly, emerging from the water. Now he's walking back up onto the wet sand of the beach, where he sits down with knees drawn up in front of him. "There."

Nezumi sets foot upon the ground in pursuit, walking over as he calls out: "Not swimming anymore?"

"You'll just make fun of me, won't you," Shion briefly sulks, squeezing wet sand in one hand. He clearly doesn't realize it, but turned away from Nezumi the way he is— legs bent and rotated to his side, upper body in a small twist and propped up on one hand to look back at him; bottom rising up slightly from where he rests on his left thigh, he's—

_Damn butterflies again…_

As he approaches, Nezumi takes the opportunity to appreciate the slim figure just ahead, clothed in a drenched-to-the-point-of-clinginess white t-shirt and red trunks all bunched from riding up Shion's legs. Right now, the transparency of Shion's dripping wet shirt matches that of his soaked hair, and Nezumi can see contours of the form that shirt is hugging. The waterlogged fabric only slightly obscures the red band of scarring snaking around his body, which briefly disappears into the red trunks and then reappears below, to spiral down his left leg.

Shion is… _attractive_. Many, many times over— and if he's being honest with himself, starting well before his journey abroad— Nezumi has been inspired to smooth hands over that silhouette. Upward to make countless shirts vanish; downward to yank at waistbands and work all manner of buttons and zippers. When he can, he slides hands all over; tracing lines and mapping the topography of his body.

A year and a half ago, Nezumi discovered that Shion actually _wasn't _completely clueless about sex. Maybe his technique wasn't stellar (though it certainly wasn't bad), but his liberated _attitude_ made up for it in spades. Shion understood that Nezumi truly hadn't wanted the guilt of hypocrisy— forcing him to wait god knows how many years preserving his "purity" for one with as colourful a past as he. Never once had they discussed having _sex with each other_. Then so much _time_ had passed. Yet somehow, Shion knew these things.

Another past memory comes to mind: After Shion survived the parasite wasp ordeal, Nezumi remarked that he thought the snake coiled around Shion's body was rather _alluring_ (and the tangle of loosened bandages pooled suggestively around his body certainly didn't hurt that mental image). My, how the walls had gone up! Shion feared _intimacy;_ Nezumi feared emotional vulnerability_,_ and so they'd _both_ recoiled. Shion lashed out to build physical distance; Nezumi's troublesome feelings made their retreat, creating emotional distance.

Yet in time, they grew to overcome these distances. _Any_ distances.

"Make fun? Me? _Never!"_ he laughs, and Shion sends him a withering look.

"You _were_ getting better though," Nezumi softly observes, his tone now earnest and encouraging. Then he switches moods again— kind smile shifting back into a disparaging grin: "You've at least made progress since that private lesson this morning."

Though he wasn't lying, Shion would know that this, too, is somewhat of a dig. An underhanded compliment recalling how he struggled at his first swimming lesson. And the only other student of the Beachside Swim School was a seven-year-old girl in a pale pink swimsuit. With a _tutu._

The little pink ballerina was swimming circles around him in no time.

Shion moodily tosses aside the clump of sand he was just kneading, making to get up and walk back to their cabin, or maybe the oceanside bar. However, Nezumi catches his arm just as he turns away. Still affronted, he looks back over his shoulder, wordless but expectant.

"Shion, come back out with me. I'll help this time."

He stares at Nezumi appraisingly, lingering on his eyes.

"Please?" Maintaining his hold, Nezumi rubs the pad of his thumb slowly back and forth along the inside of Shion's wrist.

"How… will you _help?"_ Shion's eyebrows furrow quizzically.

Nezumi looks out to the darkening water. In the last few minutes, someone lit tiki torches at intervals along the coast. Their ambient glow is subdued and unassuming, flickering hesitantly with the lilting voice of the sea. "Follow me— I'll _show_ you."

_Trust me, Shion,_ he wills in his mind, amazing though it still is that anyone would put so much faith in him as the young man by his side has done so often, and so _defencelessly_.

"Okay. Show me, then," Shion challenges, but then cries out a surprised _'Whoa!'_ as Nezumi drags him back into the shallow water at a rapid pace.

Laid-back and easygoing young prince that he is, he's already laughing as the splashes around them settle back again into the customary oceanic rhythm. Nezumi puts his arm around Shion's waist, coaxing him to stand face to face. Shion faces Nezumi, whose back is turned to the endless deep darkness beyond them, where sky and sea are only barely differentiated, and the water's flow is visible only where it reflects nearby torches, distant city lights, or the moon above.

"Night swimming is the best— and I'm not _just_ saying that because I don't like the sun."

It was a miracle Shion was so patient as to spend the daytime hours of the few days since their arrival in No. 2 under as little sunlight as possible. At times they also split up, so each could do his own thing. Mostly, Shion would want to take walks along the beach, inspecting shells and bits of seaweed. Perhaps he sought the odd crustaceans he'd mentioned hearing of, able to survive outside of captivity; or just letting waves wash over his toes, his new locally-crafted flip flops dangling carelessly from one hand. Meanwhile, Nezumi would kill time browsing expensive boutiques by the boardwalk (though he eschews them in favour of making purchases at the old, weathered shops and crowded general stores in sparser, sleepier districts of the main town); or observing Shion ambling along by the water from under the cool, sun-shielding overhang of their resort's oceanside bar and restaurant.

Within the shade of upscale shopping arcades, Nezumi would window shop and occasionally drift in and out of various stores, seeking out ideal gift options for Karan, and at Shion's request, something extra special in return for the friendship rings they received from Safu and Inukashi, a year ago. Though Nezumi isn't exactly the biggest shopper around, he has accepted the task, and is even beginning to take pleasure in hunting down just the right presents and souvenirs, uniquely tailored to their respective recipients, and symbolically reminiscent of the relationship they share. He also has an uncanny (according to Shion) knack for chasing down good deals on whatever merchandise he intends to buy. (A little luck and a bright smile can go a really long way.)

Sometimes, despite the blaring sun rays, he ventures out to meet up with Shion on the beach, a glass of wine or cocktail in hand for himself, and maybe another for his boyfriend as well. Today he caught Shion chatting with a wandering henna body-painting artisan, and thus began the jokes about Shion getting tattoos. Nezumi would seriously have liked to see it, though: The dragon head on his cheek and body embellishments painted over his scar, as if to make him look like a yakuza.

'_What's a yakuza?' _his counterpart wondered._ 'Or rather, what are they like?'_

While discussing conspicuously-tattooed Japanese gangsters of decades past, Nezumi found himself tracing fingers across Shion's face and down along his body, invisibly drawing tiny claws here, or banks of scales there; all intricate enough to be detailed in an old woodblock print, if he did say so himself. In retaliation of course, a Shion with half-lidded eyes snaked his flattened palms around behind Nezumi's hips and slipped fingers under his shirt from behind, tracing the fuzzy-legged tarantula that would take on a more distinct and well-defined form there, if he could have _his _way.

Both have come such a long way, these last few years. Nezumi is infinitely grateful for how comfortable Shion has become in his own skin. And inevitably, such a hands-on conversation could have only been concluded in the bedroom of their private cabin. So instead of trying out a jet ski as planned, that was where they stayed until it was time to emerge for dinner, just over an hour ago.

Now, Nezumi tugs Shion along until both are about neck-deep, and ensures he's got a firm grip on Shion's hands. "Push off with me, and I'll guide you around a bit. Sound good?"

"But—"

"Don't worry, just don't let go of my hands and all you have to do is float. You're the _master_ of floating on water, remember?"

"I said I can _do_ it; I didn't say _that,_" he corrects with mild exasperation.

"Yes very good then, Highness," Nezumi teases. "Now follow me."

He could always count on Shion's curiosity. And his _trust._ Always shared so easily— so _vulnerably_. He strips off all his defences like simple layers of clothing.

Well, _that_ did it.

As Nezumi glides on his back, pulling Shion along with him, his mind supplies him with images of his lover slowly disrobing. He draws that body as close as he dares without losing control over their movement through the water. Even in the dark, they can still see each other's faces. Shion has caught his eye with the burning light in his own, and there is heat in that gaze of his. The water may be warm but Shion's faintly firelit skin is searing, and suddenly he wants little more than to _take_ or be _taken_.

"Nezumi…"

At that near-whisper of his name, he guides them back to solid ground and Shion only draws closer, permitting Nezumi to complete the motion of bringing their lips together. From there, without a thought, their bodies press together where they lie. The shore is too hard a bed and sand is creeping up and caking onto their bodies but for the moment, neither of them cares. They're rolling, leaving small, telling imprints in the moist ground. Toe digs, and elbow grooves, and depressions from heads and heels.

All vestiges will be gone by morning.

Finally Shion breaks the kiss, gazing down amorously from where he sits atop Nezumi's lap. Nezumi lies stretched out on the sand, looking back up at him rather fondly, himself; "Happy Birthday, Shion."

"Happy anniversary, Nezumi." Shion leans down to plant a small kiss on his forehead, and brief pecks to his cheek and lips. "I love you."

"I…" He's not even sure anymore why it's so difficult, saying those few words that will make Shion so immeasurably happy. Is it because it makes him feel overexposed? Is it because he's afraid his bared feelings will be taken for granted? He wishes he knew. Still, there's a certain joy in saying them anyway: "I love you too, Shion."

_Only you. Always._

* * *

**A/N:** _Thanks again, so much, for reading. Let me know what you think? I'm not sure I'll write anymore No.6 fics, but I do still have that crossover with DGM that's been waiting patiently on my hard drive. Hopefully I'll be able to pick that up again in the new year. For now, I'm going to try to concentrate on finishing _Heaven & Hell_._


End file.
